


Safe Harbour

by Tonko



Series: Strange Bedfellows [5]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tonko/pseuds/Tonko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nami. Sanji. Ice storm strands the rest off-ship. See rating for further clues as to what happens next. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/228978/edit">Strange Bedfellows</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Safe Harbour

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains het! M/m is referred to within the text (and is contained in all but one of the previous parts of the series).
> 
> To anyone who read this in progression order from the previous parts: if it feels, reading this, like some stuff has been skipped, well, it was. The actual meeting of Our Heroes has yet to make it from my mind to the page. Or .doc file, anyway. Suffice to say, they busted up Krieg, Ace departed all free, and Nami, who was there to steal from Krieg, fell in with the boys once he'd been smushed.
> 
> I just wanted to write a Sanji/Nami bit :)
> 
> Thanks to the awesome [printfogey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/printfogey/profile) for the beta!

“He's... he's really a...?” Nami trailed off, head tilted slightly. She was too tired to keep up many appearances, and anyway this sort of thing was acceptable to react to with some surprise.

“Chef,” Zoro grunted. Then, apparently prompted by her narrow-eyed look, the corner of his mouth quirked in amusement and he said, “vampire. Half.” He took another gulp from his tankard of beer and shrugged. “Also got an ego that stretches from here to the moon, and kick that'd break a mountain in half.” His expression had turned just slightly fond, and it was a strange look on that hard face. “He'll feed you if it kills him. And don't insult him by fearing him. He won't feed _on_ you. If it kills him.”

“On... me,” Nami repeated with belated realization. Of course. Sanji would still have to feed off humans, one way or another. “What does he need?”

“Lust,” Zoro said simply. “He's gotta make someone come.”

Nami didn't blush. It had been many years since she'd been innocent enough to blush at anything as tame as that. She watched Sanji set another basket of bread down, his visible blue eye alight and sparkling. The longnose followed gamely with another tray, the pair of them moving with and around each other with an ease born from friendship and much time spent together. Nami and Zoro's table was next. “We will join you very soon, my lady,” Sanji ducked elegantly, despite his full arms, and she had to smile, unaccountably flattered and endeared by his manner. She knew lies and deceit and fakery, and Sanji's politeness was sincere all the way down.

They moved on again, and Nami took a roll and broke it apart, breathing in the mouthwatering scent of freshly-baked bread.

Sanji and Usopp moved on to the next table and Nami watched as her new—temporary, of course—leader Luffy upended the full breadbasket into his stretchy gullet and promptly demanded more, getting a whack between his backswept horns from Sanji, followed by another basket. Luffy grinned toothily, his funny little wings flapping once with his enthused glee. Weird, weird kid. Half dragon, half rubber tree nymph, all grinning, inexplicably charismatic craziness.

Zoro took an unceremonious bite from his own bread, but she noticed that he chewed it slowly, and his eyes were on Sanji. “Well, then, does he pay someone?” she asked. That could be a problem if they were all supposed to go off traveling with rubber-dragon-boy over there.

Zoro glanced at her. “Nope. He's got friends.” There was a gleam in his green eyes that explained that statement fully as it pertained to Zoro, then those eyes turned back to the slender, black-clad form of their erstwhile server. Sanji passed by the Baratie's owner with an expression that turned affectionately surly a moment before he vanished into the kitchen again.

“So if you ever see him pale,” Zoro said suddenly, and his voice held a serious note that made her pay surprised attention, “if you ever see him pale, or you find him cold, you get me, or you get Usopp. He can go days, but if he cools too far, he'll fade.”

She nodded once, taken aback by the intensity of Zoro's expression.

The kitchen door swung open and Sanji came through with the appetizer, and she watched him.

She didn't dislike him. He may have been all too willing, in her opinion, to fall in with that idiot rubber-bodied half-dragon—which made her a hypocrite now, of course, but nonetheless—and yet she felt an undeniable similarity. He'd been in similar straits as she was, these past years, trying to keep his home safe. He was steadfast and polite, skilled and strong and _good_. He was a good man.

They'd be traveling together, pretense though it would be on her part. There'd be no reason not to help him if it was needed.

Sanji passed their table with a distracted head-jerk at Zoro, and a joyful, almost goofy grin, in her direction. She waved her fingers coyly at him and had to stifle a laugh at the blush that erupted onto his face at the gesture. He continued on with a definite spring in his step.

Zoro snorted, but he was hiding a smile in his drink again. “Shitty lover-boy,” he muttered.

Nami knew of the vampire and the demon only what she'd learned today; that they bickered and snapped at each other and fought side by side with a strong trust. She added the barely-detectable softness in the demon's expression to her understanding. Whatever arrangement the two had regarding Sanji's special hunger, the relationship was something deep and strong, just as it clearly was with Sanji and his kobold-blooded friend.

She envied them all.

*

After Arlong was dead, after they'd survived the danger of the Reverse Current over the mountains, Nami's envy was long faded, belonging having grown sneakily to take its place.

Zoro continued to snarl and carp about her avarice, but his swords had saved her countless times now, and her lightning had done the same for him, along with Usopp's perfect aim and Sanji's acrobatic kicking and Luffy's ridiculous rubbery meleeing. Usopp and Luffy and Sanji and Zoro... they were her boys—her men—and she loved them in a way she'd never dared to think possible, the emotion one that she'd never expected to feel so strongly again after Bellemere's death.

While on this ship, Sanji's treatment of her had shifted from enthusiastically polite to sublimely ridiculous as time went on and they all grew more comfortable with each other. She'd also gleaned more details about his youth over time from Usopp, who'd been the first one to ever take care of Sanji's particular dietary requirements, and knew the most about him of any of them.

The once-secret nature of Sanji's needs was not a secret at all, among them, nor was the simple, automatic assurance between the cook and his friends that those needs would be met as required, no matter what. Usopp seemed to be a backup of sorts, his and Sanji's relationship old and comfortable, and contentedly platonic for the most part. Sanji and Zoro, on the other hand, could be snarling like enraged dogs at each other for an entire afternoon, insults and curses and apparent contempt openly displayed. But Nami knew, now, if she listened at the right time, at the right nook or wall or closed door of the ship later, that she'd hear them together—often as not even when Sanji wasn't really in need of sustenance.

But Sanji loved women, it seemed, as much as he appreciated his man. Back at the town, with the pressure of his secrecy and the need to survive, a natural ebullience towards women had apparently been severely curtailed, because out here...

His giddy singsong voice was a familiar sound, now, the delicious scents of foods he made especially for her a near-constant on calm days. His alacrity to obey any request, absurd or otherwise, was unflagging.

And if Sanji was exulting in the freedom to be so overwrought around a woman, she didn't think any of them knew just how much happiness it gave her in return, even beyond the obvious ease of being waited on. Sanji was pampering her just because he wanted to. She wasn't manipulating him—well, hardly ever, and never for anything important—she wasn't conning him, she wasn't threatening or blackmailing, he simply wanted to make her happy. And just by wanting to, he did.

All of them did, in their own variously wonderful, stupid, brave and annoying ways. And every time she realized it, it make her heart thud extra-hard in her chest.

So Sanji treated her like a princess from some magical castle, and each gesture made her love him, and them all, just a little more, because none of them would be here without each other, without Luffy.

They all were important to each other. Sanji would be hiding in the woods, or dead, without Usopp and Zoro. Zoro would be wandering still, without Sanji and Luffy. Usopp would not have survived the fight with his dear Kaya's imposter butler, had Sanji not been there.

And she would still be under Arlong's wet, slimy thumb, moving numbly through the world, questing for them wealth required to save her home, if she had not gotten herself entangled with them that day in Krieg's keep.

They had become friends, had become a family.

And so when it one day happened, as was almost inevitable, when Sanji and she were isolated from the others for longer than they'd expected, they managed.

Violent weather had come on, freezing rain mixed with sleet that blew in with harsh, unrelenting winds.

They sent up some of Usopp's signal flares when the wind started to pick up; red-blue-blue for “danger, weather, stay.” The answering flares from across the bowl of the valley came moments later; yellow-blue-violet for “acknowledgment, weather, moor.” Luffy and the others would find cover, she and Sanji would moor the ship where it could handle the storm.

The little valley they were visiting was uninhabited, and so the other three had gone out to hunt. Nami had stayed back to update her maps, Sanji to take inventory and work on his recipes. The valley's lush greenery had not led them to expect an ice storm.

Fortunately, a deep ledge with a slight overhang was not far distant, and they landed the ship, deflated the balloon and secured the rigging. The quick-freezing drops started splattering against the against the deck about halfway through the process. Ice coated everything with frightening speed, but they managed to tighten and loosen what was needed to bear up under the pull of the wind and the weight of the ice. The overhang would protect Merry from the worst of the ice accumulation, but the wind was vicious. They'd have to stay put until it let up.

And it didn't let up.

For two days the freezing rain slicked everything with more and more ice, and no signs of stopping on the third morning. For the most part, they kept inside, and warm. There was food aplenty without Luffy around, and she made great headway on catching up her maps, Sanji surely managing likewise with his recipes. They took an hour three times each day to break ice away from where it was relentlessly layering onto every single surface of the ship.

Towards the end of the third day, they retreated together into the galley after yet another trial of ice-breaking. Sanji removed his wet coat with great distaste, then moved to the stove. “Hot chocolate, Nami my dear?”

She was still wringing out her her wet hair, and silently cursing herself, yet again, for not having felt this huge ice storm's approach when they'd decided to land in this valley. Something this big should never have gone unnoticed until mere hours before its arrival, but, she was fast learning, such was the nature of the Grand Line.

Sanji's suggestion, however, was a welcome distraction. “Absolutely,” she replied, and he grinned happily at her, the smile wide and easy. With his hair plastered to his head making him look sillier than usual, she could only smile back.

The anticipation of something warm was a comfort as she took off her own coat. She hung it on its peg on the wall, watched the ice that had formed on it start to drip cold water and make a matching puddle with the one under Sanji's.

A clatter made her look around. Sanji had both arms braced on the edge of the stove, the empty pot off-center from its burner. His head was hanging, and she saw shivers run through the tense set of his back.

His hands were pale, and she heard him swallow.

Oh. Hm.

How long had it been...? Too long. The others had been away over four days, now.

“Sanji...” she started, and he raised his head abruptly. The cold-redness was gone from his face, too, an unhealthy faded look there instead, like the time they'd had to scatter in the wake of a fight with that herd of giant owlbears and Sanji and Zoro had been the last to get back to the ship.

Zoro had arrived hauling Sanji in over his shoulder, and passed out, bleeding from a belly wound, and as Nami had repressed her worry to deal with patching him up, Usopp had dragged Sanji immediately downstairs. When she and Luffy had carried Zoro down soon after, both Usopp and Sanji were naked under a blanket on the floor, Usopp deep asleep, and Sanji looking far healthier.

But now he smiled dismissively. “Oh, it's nothing. Cold just made me very momentarily clumsy, Nami dear. Now please don't worry yourself on my account. What we need is to get _you_ warmed up. No frostbite shall ever mar your beauteous face!” He carolled the last part in a valiant and very respectable facsimile of his usual energy, but his smile faded when she didn't alter her serious study of him.

She got to her feet, moved closer. If this was left too long, he would weaken, and that would be dangerous for more than only him. “Sanji,” she said again, and he held up a hand, a rare gesture of seriousness, in return.

“I'm fine. I can hold out a good deal longer than this.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It's been hardly any time at all.”

“I believe you,” she said, because she did, but she couldn't let pride win out over necessity, just because she was the one here with Sanji rather than either of his usual sources of nourishment. She shook her head. “But it's just us two here, and this storm is going to be here for days. I need you to be able to help me with the ship if the winds move again.”

“Oh. I... yes.” His eye widened, expression turned reluctant at the truth of that. Unwilling to let either of them think themselves into a lather over this, she pouted at him and cocked her head.

“What's this? I thought you considered me passably attractive.” Ah, yes, that got a heated expression instantly, and she bit back a little smile. One type of manly pride against another, and she barely had to argue at all.

“Oh, so very far beyond passably,” he said, rough and firm, and a thread of hunger was in that tone than started warming her in places hot chocolate would never have reached. She leaned in slightly, and he didn't move away. He didn't close the gap, either. “But, I just—you were never meant to have to stoop to this. I wanted to... do things for you, never take.” He sighed.

“Stoop? Pretty sure Zoro doesn't think he's slumming, whatever else I think of that lunkhead, he has fine taste in men,” she tutted, and reached out to touch the damp cloth of his shirt. He was cold underneath already, though that could easily have been the storm. “Besides, from what I heard, you were the best lover in your town.” She lowered her tone slightly, and slid her hand to his waist. “Somehow I doubt that you making me come qualifies as a purely one-sided act.” She squeezed his hip slightly.

She knew how it worked, that he was able to kindle nearly insane lust in those he fed on—the better to gain an orgasm, of course. And for a long time, even a while after Arlong, the prospect of that had been as unnerving as it had been intriguing. Nami knew her own body well enough to pleasure herself when she had the time and the desire to do so. But it was rarely a quick and easy thing, and sometimes she stopped before the climax when it became clear the peak was too elusive. It was difficult for her, even now, to let go of her inhibitions for long. To be carried along, though, for it to be offered, easy and inevitable... she loved Sanji, trusted him, and the prospect no longer discomfited her.

“Nami,” Sanji breathed, his head leaning fractionally closer to her. He closed his eye and sighed, giving in, and relief eased the worry in her. Sanji could be maddeningly stubborn about certain things, even to her, but she'd won the day here. “Where..?”

She glanced back at the door to the deck. She didn't want to endure the rain again, but she knew she would fall asleep afterwards, and had no intention of doing so in the galley. Usopp had once described to her the effects, the brief toll of exhaustion that Sanji's feeding took on a human, or mostly human, body. “Let's get below.” She set her shoulders and moved away from him to get her coat.

He exhaled as they separated. Even voiceless, she could hear the automatic protest in the sound at her stepping away. Heat shivered through her again, and she knew this would be just fine.

She swung her coat over her head, waited for Sanji to do likewise, and then she opened the door back out into the howling wind and relentless icy sheets of rain. The slippery deck was a trial in itself, and they were both soaked again by the time they were down the hatch. It was dark down here, and neither of them had brought a lantern, but enough light came through the portholes to see by, even with the sky shrouded by the storm. Everything was cast in blue and grey, soft, dark shadows gathering where the light didn't reach. The hammocks hung still, the room strangely quiet in the absence of their crewmates.

The coat was plucked from her grip, Sanji tossing them both over ladder rungs before turning to face her. She raised her hands, began undoing her shirt.

The sodden thing landed in a pile on the floor, her bra going next and hung over the back of the couch, and she was working at her belt before she realized Sanji hadn't moved.

She made an expectant motion with her head. He blinked, and shifted slightly. It was obvious where his attention had been, and she felt herself flush, unbidden, at the awareness of his gaze on her while she finally undid her belt. She stepped out of her sandals as she pushed the wet cloth down and off, trousers and panties both, and then she was naked.

There was a light in his eye she'd never seen so well before, only brief glimpses of it directed at Zoro or Usopp. It was the vampiric hunger with its animal edge, the anticipation, but also the deep, appreciative gratitude. Sanji's gaze on her made her self-conscious in a wonderful way, which was a novel sensation. He didn't look away as he moved a few steps to reach for one of the blankets folded on the couch. He shook the blanket quietly loose to drape it around her, and she curled her hands around the edges. The use-softened red wool, dark maroon in the grey light, was fuzzy against her bare, damp, skin, and kept her warm.

Nodding politely, almost courtier-like, Sanji undid the laces of his shirt and pulled it off. The lean, muscled chest and arms the cloth had covered were a fine sight. His pallor made him seem to glow in the dimness.

He stopped with that much off, and took a half-step closer to her. He inhaled, long and slow; inclined his head. “You honour me with your arousal, my lady,” he said.

“You can tell?” she asked, quietly surprised. He nodded once, solemn, almost apologetic. She laughed a little. “See? Like I said. This is not a one-way benefit.” She shifted her grip on the blanket, letting the folds over her shoulders loosen and slide down, baring herself to the tops of her breasts.

Sanji made sound at the back of his throat, a low noise, just barely voiced, that nonetheless conveyed desire and thanks at once. “I am ever beholden to you,” he said, quiet and firm, and then his arms came around her and he lowered his lips to her cheek. As one arm circled round her back, and the other pressed an open hand against her lower back, he kissed her gently, once, almost chastely. His lips were cool, but his breath was warm. “Thank you,” he murmured against her, the words brushing over her skin. She let go of the blanket then, only Sanji's arms around her keeping it from falling away. Her hands found their way to his waist, feeling cool, taut skin.

She heard him lick his lips, a wet sound that sent a thrill of desire through her lower belly. His arms tightened in response, and then he lowered his mouth to her neck. One light touch of lips came first, and she knew Sanji, she trusted him, but she also knew what he was, and though she felt completely safe, she couldn't avoid the chilly shiver at the knowledge that there was a vampire at her throat. That heightened everything, giving it all a tingling frisson of false danger.

Then his tongue touched her, with his mouth open and the warm air of his breath against her throat around the contact. She felt the touch of magic, a specialized use of power as natural to Sanji as breathing, inborn, ancient and irresistible.

And lust poured into her, over her, washing over every other kind of awareness she had in an instant. Her skin felt alight to every touch, the contrast with a moment ago as stark as fire and ice, from the brush of the blanket to the pressure of his arm and hand, and heat swelled between her legs, feeling slick and hungry, and oh gods, she needed touch, needed fingers, mouth, hands, cock, please, now, please, please—

“Anything,” Sanji's voice was honey, his arms caught her up as she grabbed at his waist, the damp cloth of his trousers convenient and aggravating at once. She pressed her breasts against his chest, arched back, and his mouth was on her again, kissing down her neck as he lifted her just enough that he could move. Her feet touched the deck again only a few steps back. “Sit back, beauty,” Sanji murmured, and bent down, going to his knees as she was set down on the couch.

She shifted impatiently, watching him draw nearer; every inch of her needed to touch him. Her hands clenched painfully around the blanket and so she let it go, reaching to grip hard at his shoulders instead and pull him the last few inches.

He moved close between her eagerly parted legs, and she felt his sides against her thighs, the proximity making her hips rock in frustrated want. His cool hands went first to her breasts, his mouth to her neck and moving wetly downwards. One hand moved away, lowered, sliding over her belly, wrist turning so his fingers brushed through dampened hairs before sliding easily between her labia.

His mouth took the place of his hand on her breast, tongue warm over her nipple while his fingers stroked just barely at her, dipping only just the slightest bit inside, not enough, not hardly, and she squirmed, arms around his neck and head thrown back.

His thumb slid up, pressed and moved and he pushed his fingers into her, at last, the sensation of motion inside her so welcome she felt as though she'd waited years. Every second lasted hours, the lust stretching her perception of time as even the briefest pause or wait was nigh intolerable.

She heard a whine, and another, and it was her own voice, freed from her usual self-control, expressing her pleasure at his touch. And she had no interest at all in curbing it, only that Sanji keep touching her, keep those big, perfect, deft, lovely fingers moving.

She sank her hands into his hair, holding his mouth to her breast, but then he moved down, his fingers slid away. She looked down, had only just taken in enough air to voice a wordless complaint when she felt a breath against her inner thigh, the brush of a cool cheek, and she lifted one of her hands from his hair to cup and knead at her own breast as she let her head fall back again in anticipation.

And then his mouth, his tongue, were on her, and she moaned and fisted her other hand in his hair. His lips were soft but so mobile and as she panted at the contact, she felt his arms shift. One around her leg, fingers stroking at the skin of her thigh, and the other—two fingers slid into her as his tongue swept up higher, the slick roughness such perfect friction...

He was unrelenting, unhesitating, and the awareness of her body would have been unbelievable if she hadn't been experiencing it firsthand. It wasn't that he knew all that she liked, but he _reacted_ so very perfectly. She'd been bared, not just of clothing, and he was reading it all, answering every twitch and moan and surge inside her with what she wanted.

She writhed and gasped, open-mouthed, opening her legs wider for him, and she wanted—she wanted—yes—his fingers slid a final time into her and stilled, motion turning to delicious upward pressure just inside. She held his head tight to her, the quickening strokes of his tongue pulling her up, higher, her body felt full to the brim with hungry pleasure and—and—

She came, the rush of orgasm sliding over and through her and then... outward. She marveled vaguely at the strangeness of it, to feel her peaked pleasure be so carefully gathered up. She could feel, too, just barely, a presence there, against her mind, and despite this being the first touch, she knew it, recognized it. Sanji fed, gently, gently, drawing from her in a light, steady pull that soon slowed, and then eased fully away.

Her eyes were closed when he was done, and they stayed that way, thick sleepiness unfolding over her like a heavy, welcome blanket. Sanji's skin was warm, now, his hands were warm, smoothing over her belly, his cheek was warm, turning against her inner thigh to place a last kiss there. He slid away from her, and she shifted slightly to settle, comfortable beyond all reason on this shabby couch.

She felt the blanket wrap around her again, felt herself lifted and carefully carried, and the last thing she was aware of was of sinking into the familiar smell and feel of her own bed.

*

She woke warm and comfortable, stretching naked under her covers for a moment before opening her eyes and remembering. In detail.

It was a good memory. One to store and keep for future... enjoyment.

There had been nothing about that to regret. It had been wonderful, and beyond pleasurable. Definitely _not_ uncompensated help.

It had an unreal quality about it, however, which made her sure neither of them would truly crave to repeat it on a regular basis. She remembered Sanji's too-pale, handsome body, his wonderful hands and his amazing mouth on her, but his manner the entire time... it was as though, as soon as it had begun, he had changed from his silly, devotedly ridiculous self to another person entirely. Courtly and careful, solemn and respectful.

Reassuring, perhaps, to see firsthand that he could keep up such a restrained facade, but... that wasn't how it was, between them. _Her_ Sanji was over-the-top. He was effusive and grand and adolescent towards her, he crowed about her (exaggerated) good qualities and made eyes at her when she looked at him and gushed if she changed her hair and stared giddily when she wore revealing clothes.

In feeding... he was none of those things. It must have been like that his whole life, before. She would hardly complain on his old partners' behalves, and she was certain Sanji had not even the slightest inkling of discontent about having been forced by circumstances to act that way, but his reactions to her had always been freer than that. Half fervent chivalry, half making-up-for-lost-time girl-craziness.

She preferred the Sanji she knew.

She threw back the covers, put fresh clothes on, found her jacket that Sanji had brought down and hung inside the door, and headed up again. The rain was still coming down, freezing and immobilizing, the clouds letting it down still a heavy, stolid presence to her weather-sense, but when she went into the galley, it was bright and warm, and Sanji looked over at her from the pot he was stirring, with an eager-to-please grin. She let out a tiny breath of comforted relief and smiled back as he raised a chocolate-coated spoon.

“A moment more, Nami my sweet, and you will taste the best hot chocolate ever to have graced anyone's lips. Fitting of course, that yours should be the first, I must say.” He lifted the pot and tilted it, pouring the melted chocolate into a second pot, presumably containing milk. He snatched up a bowl on the counter, inspecting some well-whipped cream, and added, “would you prefer chocolate shavings or cinnamon on top?”

“Hmmm.” She sat down and thought a moment.

“Nami-dearest is so beautiful when she's making decisions!” Sanji exclaimed, face glowing with reassuring health and unabashed glee.

Yes, this was her Sanji.


End file.
